


Wedding Rush

by BreeZ_Claire



Series: As Days Go By [12]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bromance, Fluff, Gen, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeZ_Claire/pseuds/BreeZ_Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the wedding of the century as the group is pulled together, because desperate times calls for desperate measures. Merlin and Arthur struggle to keep sane under the stress of evil flowers and a terrifying headset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brotherhood

The four flatmates sat morbidly around their living room in a circle. Dinner was long gone, and so were the laughs and jokes around yet another glass coffee table. Four cups of coffee lay untouched.

One man sat slumped on the L-couch against the wall, rubbing his tired face and trying to smooth down his hair for the fifteenth time with fidgeting fingers. Another man sat to his right, staring at his hands, frozen to his seat. There was a skinnier, younger man kneeling on the floor in front of the large TV to the fidgeting man's left. He rolled around a stray meatball from his plate of pasta but couldn't bring himself to finish it. He was pouting.

Only the fourth man – the model—, who sat on the armchair, completing the group's little circle, looked moderately at ease. But even that was pushing it. The man had his legs draped over one side of the chair as he rested his head on the other, looking up at the ceiling deep in thought. He finally decided to sit upright, unable to take the silence for much longer.

"So," he laced his fingers together and looked across the table to the fidgeting man. "You're getting married in a couple weeks."

"Indeed," nodded the man numbly.

"And there's still," the kneeling man gulped. He was too tired to even lift his head off the table as he spoke, not caring how pathetic he must have looked with his head bobbing up and down with every word, "so many things to do."

"I know," answered the groom-to-be.

To the right of the groom, a lawyer stirred and whispered, "And then you're moving out."

A heavy air set around them, tugging and squeezing the air from their lungs as the four men – four _friends_ – began settling into the realization. Things changed and people moved on, and even though they didn't want to admit it, they knew people changed too. The days of Arthur, Lance, Gwaine, and Merlin were coming to an end. They had no regrets, though, of course they didn't. They all were happy for their friend and knew Lance and Gwen belonged together.

But even so, it felt too soon, like they still had adventures to go on; quests to conquer. They were a team, and soon they'd be one man short. Soon.

Too soon.

"It's like the end of an era!" Merlin covered his eyes and wailed in a sudden flood of emotion.

Gwaine reached over and patted the boy on the shoulder, feeling an unusual prickle behind his eyes that he quickly blinked away. Arthur looked away as well, as did Lance. They too felt the warm flush on their cheeks down to their necks and tried their best to hide it from one another. The hot swirl of emotion was contagious and once it started, they knew it wouldn't stop. Lance sucked in a breath and leaned back to stare at the ceiling.

Arthur sniffed and stood up, muttering about dust in his eyes as he paced around to where Cabal was busy lapping up water from his bowl in the kitchen. Arthur leaned down and tousled the scruff of the dog's neck, smiling when the pup rubbed against his shoulder and nuzzled against his neck. He sniffed again, only this time – thankfully – it was muffled in the fur of the large animal.

Arthur and Lance. Lance and Arthur. The two of them were college roommates that grew inseparable as the years flew by. Drunken nights, hangovers, too-early mornings, cramming before exams, coffee, coffee, and more coffee…they'd gone through the whole nine yards together and then some. Lance had taught Arthur the true meaning of nobility and what it took to live a life of no regrets; to look in the mirror and truly be proud of who you saw. And in return, Arthur gave him a taste of courage – and not just the liquid kind either.

Of course, it was Gwaine who taught them both a little something about fun. When Arthur and Lance first moved into the four-bedroom apartment and began looking for flatmates, Gwaine had come rampaging into their lives full of energy and a carefree look on life. He'd pulled the lawyer and doctor out of their workaholic states and showed them that it was okay to break the rules once in a while. That having a little fun here and there wouldn't kill them.

And then there was Merlin. Happy-go-lucky, sunshine smiling, contagiously bubbly, overly exuberant, too-helpful-for-his-own-good Merlin Emrys. Without him, Lance never would've met Guinevere in the first place.

Lance bowed his head for a moment before reaching out for Merlin's other shoulder. "I will miss you too, my friend."

"You'll visit?"

"You know I will."

"Promise!" Merlin bottom lip jutted out as he yelped.

"I promise."

"He's not moving far, mate," Gwaine consoled. His voice thickened a bit as he squeezed his friend's shoulder a little tighter. "Aren't I right, Lance?"

Lance could only smile in response. Who were they trying to kid? For years now Lance had been looking to open his own practice and not too long after his conference, he'd been offered just that. But in Indianapolis. Two whole states over. It was both devastating and exciting when the news came and even Merlin, who was always happy about everything, seemed to beam just a tad dimmer than he usually would at such news.

Gwen and Lance had been together when they received the news. They talked and accepted it. Was it an easy decision? No. Hell no. Morgana had already ranted and raved at her friend for leaving, crying out until the two girls embraced in a mess of tangled limbs and sobbing tears. But peace had been made. And a new chapter was about to begin for the loving bride and groom.

They knew it was right. They knew it didn't make their goodbyes any easier.

Arthur returned to the circle, eyes a little redder, but kept his eyes trained out the window as he muttered, "Stop your sniveling Merlin you look like an idiot."

Lance and Gwaine both shot half-hearted glares at the lawyer but knew his words weren't heated. Arthur never really was the heart-on-your-sleeve type of guy; he just got moody when upset. Merlin sat up anyways, drying his eyes on the sleeve of his baggy hoodie and shook away the hands on his shoulders, taking a few breaths to calm himself before looking up at the three men. If he thought about it, a year really wasn't that long at all.

In just a year he'd gone from potentially homeless to living in an elaborate and surprisingly cozy mansion of an apartment. He found friends in the most unexpected places and in the most unexpected people. He'd been punched, slapped, kicked, groped, and even pelted with fruit – bad day at the market…long story – but he'd had the time of his life with the three of them. His flatmates, the four people he shared a home with, had changed his life in the most bizarre and wonderful way.

And just like that, it was all going to fade away.

Merlin looked around at the four faces he'd never forget. "Could we at least have a group hug?"

They all hugged.

They all stood there with arms wrapped around each others shoulders, foreheads pressed against the other, and eyes shut tight in case a pesky tear decided to sneak its way to the surface. In their silence the weeks and months and years passed behind their eyes. Silent prayers were whispered and hopes burned bright. A promise to keep in touch synced with each beating heart.

"We really have to stop doing this every night," Arthur said with a shaky breath and soon the room was filled with soft chuckles of four friends.

Brothers.


	2. The Delegators

"…Wait…Wait no – stop screaming!" Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as the angry shouts spewed from the headset. It was only ten in the morning and already he'd gone through two dozen messages, calling back and finalizing what he could. Except with every call he made there seemed to be five more waiting for him the moment he hung up. He'd been playing this never-ending game of catch-up ever since Lance shoved the headset and phone into Arthur's hands. "Okay. Okay, you know what? I have ano– I have another call, goodbye!"

He switched off the device and dropped his head onto his desk, barely managing to suppress a sigh. As an extra precaution he turned off the phone as well.

"Having fun?" Arthur turned his head to see Merlin leaning by the doorway of his home office. The boy was smirking again and Arthur wanted to throw something at him, but unfortunately he was too tired to move. And moving would probably anger his already growing headache.

"What difference is there between halibut, salmon, and cod anyway? They're all just fish," the lawyer whined.

"Oh, I don't know. Taste, look, texture…" Merlin prattled on for a few more minutes before realizing it was a rhetorical question. In the end he settled for a cheeky, "Only the things that matter."

The blond grumbled, pushing away the slips of paper cluttering his otherwise perfectly organized desk. Scribbled on each little coloured paper were notes and messages that needed looking over and editing and getting back to, but every time he glanced at the papers his head began spinning so Arthur decided to call it quits for now – or until Lance caught him and yelled at him for shutting off the phone. Again.

Arthur hung the headset about his neck; it weighed on him like a noose. At first glance, it seemed like a piece of cake dealing with phone call after phone call because he did it almost every day at work. Calming down clients and making negotiations to fit the needs of both parties were second nature to him. But apparently the wedding world was completely different from the law world. What seemed like an easy decision at first turned out to be ten times worse than another. No wonder Gwen had abandoned headset duty after two weeks. Lance had lasted only two days before shoving the devilish equipment into Arthur's puzzled hands.

" _Have you slept in the last forty-eight hours, Lance?" The friend had asked, looking at the groom-to-be with heavy concern._

" _The phone," Lance looked up with wide-eyed, feverish panic, which in itself was enough to sound the warning bells. "I-It never stops ringing. There's always…something…God, Arthur take it. Take it away from me, please. I'm begging you!"_

Arthur had taken it without another word before ushering Lance off to bed for a well-needed rest. The man remained panicked and sweaty the entire way up the stairs, muttering about messages and due dates and menus and caterers…Arthur shook his head. How bad could it be, he thought, planning a wedding? He casually answered the phone for the first time that night, which up until then had been buzzing continuously, and immediately regretted it.

Gwen didn't want to hire a wedding planner – "We can all chip in together. It'll be fun!" – so now all the final tasks were spread out among the couple's friends. That meant Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, and everyone else were busy scurrying around this week helping out with the final touches. Arthur didn't know how she managed it, but Morgana had somehow convinced Uther that they needed a weeklong break (in which no day was even close to resembling relaxation).

So while Gwaine was having fun arranging the gentlemen attire for the wedding –what better job was there for a model really?— Arthur was waging war against the wedding world, fighting through twenty minutes of continuous onslaught before hastily shutting off the buzzing cellphone and headset _not_ out of fear despite what Morgana said. He was pretty sure his brain was on a default headache-mode, because there was no order! Just a messy collage of menus here and tablecloths there and RSVPs up the middle. How the hell was anyone supposed to make sense of it all?

"I'd say go with halibut," Merlin shook Arthur out of the catatonic state he'd taken to freezing into when it all became too much, which was at least twice every few hours. When Arthur gave him a raised brown, he continued with a shrug. "It's more versatile."

Arthur cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "And how, _Mer_ lin, would you know?"

"I know everything," the boy beamed his goofy grin, and dodged a flying computer screen.

 

* * *

 

After an early lunch, Arthur, Lance, and Merlin gathered in the living room to sort through battle plans.

Lance was in a frenzy, wildly scribbling down jobs that still needed completing in no particular order or organized fashion. Merlin and Arthur watched in silence, almost too afraid to interrupt in fear of causing a mental breakdown in their friend. It seemed that the closer they got to Wedding Day, the crazier things got. Even Gwen look slightly haggard – but no one dared mention that to her face. They all still enjoyed living thank you very much.

"Okay!" The doctor leapt up and waved two long lists in the air. The two flatmates jumped up as well, though for a completely different reason, as Lance shot out orders at lightning speed, "Merlin! You take this list and head downstairs to meet up with Gwen and Morgana. Arthur, you're with me and the boys today. We have some serious driving to do! Leon and Percival are downstairs waiting so c'mon!"

Lance shoved the lists into their faces and vaulted over the couch, barely remembering his shoes before sprinting out the door. Lawyer and assistant stared after their friend, blinking, and tried to place what had just happened before looking down at their scrolls of duty.

Merlin gasped and sputtered the minute he spotted 'flower shops' written in bold. "But flowers are evil!"

"So you end up sneezing till your eyes pop out, big deal! What the bloody hell is a fish bowl arrangement?" Arthur squinted at his paper.

The two shared a look before taking equally deep breaths and making their way downstairs.

 

* * *

 

"I thought you already decided on flowers," Merlin said as he picked his way through the jungle. The moment he stepped through the doors he'd been sneezing nonstop and he could tell the shopkeeper was not impressed. It was obvious from the death glares that said shopkeeper was more concerned about her flower than Merlin. He looked past a tall vase of wildflowers to where Morgana and Gwen sat huddled around a rather large binder full of pictures of flower arrangements and Merlin wondered how much longer he'd have to stay in this flowery hell.

"Finalizations, Merlin. That's the key word here," Morgana looked up from the laminated sheet and hugged Gwen. "Organization and finalization; you'd do well to remember those words for your own wedding."

"If I ever get married," The dark haired man muttered before catapulting himself back into the wall with another grand sneeze. The two girls winced and Merlin made a hasty recovery of the tulips and berries – berries in a flower arrangement?! – that were on the brink of shattering to the ground. The shopkeeper glared at him again before slipping through the back door for her break. "Sorry!" he yelled after her.

Gwen dug into her purse and offered him a tissue. "Thank you for coming Merlin; I really do appreciate your help."

"What are best friends for?" Merlin smiled as he tiptoed around a statue to his friend.

Morgana gasped and held a hand to her chest in mock hurt. "And me? What am I here for?"

The two girls fell into bouts of giggles after that, hugging and pointing their attention back to the albums of colourful flowers.

Morgana, contrary to popular belief, had been planning imaginary weddings from time she could say "sweetheart neckline" and Merlin supposed it was something hotwired into every girl until he remembered Gwen.

Gwen was raised in a simple town with simple needs and had set on a simple wedding, not quite sure the difference between a veil and a train, until Morgana got her claws into her. It was a good thing they were planning the wedding for so long because between Gwen's indecision and Morgana thirst for "the perfect wedding," things grew at an exponential rate. But then again, it seemed like everyone was looking forward to the larger-than-life wedding. And Merlin knew that if anyone deserved such a grand wedding, it was Gwen.

They were still getting married in the same church as Lance's grandparents, and as far as the actual wedding ceremony went, things didn't look quite that complicated. It wasn't until Morgana started organizing the reception party that the snowball began charging downhill.

And of course having known Gwen since university, Merlin had been on the girl side of the wedding tracks the entire time. He and Morgana and Gwen spent hours organizing and sorting out preliminary plans; Merlin still had a few dozen accordion folders stuffed in his closet and under his bed, so Merlin was pretty sure he knew the wedding backwards and forwards.

It was both embarrassing and…actually no. Just embarrassing.

He felt like his manhood was being held captive.

And Morgana was to blame.

He wasn't even supposed to be involved in the first place! But then Morgana had walked by while Merlin was reorganizing the office folders for the umpteenth time that month – despite what Arthur said, there really was a good reason for him doing it. That Cedric from level forty-six was known to loom around and poke his beaky nose into everyone's files so Merlin took great precaution in protecting the privacy of his and Arthur's clients…but annoying Arthur was pretty fun too – and amidst the coloured tabs and swift multitasking, the woman had high-jacked him and brought him into her office to present him with the wedding mission. And what choice did he have? With Morgana, you always found yourself saying "yes."

But he supposed it was useful, what with him living with Lance but also knowing the ins and outs of what Gwen wanted for the wedding. Many a phone call had been saved due to him knowing what the other would say when asked things like, "What song did he want to play for our first dance?" or "Do you think his family have any food allergies?" and also "Does she want me wearing a bowtie, tie, or ascot?"

The way you look tonight by Frank Sinatra.

Yes – go with fish. The Dulacs love seafood.

Tie. Always a tie. Burn the ascot before Morgana tears out your soul.

Merlin was snapped from his trance by a row of sneezes, this time landing ungracefully on his backside by the front door. _Flowers_. He hated flowers. Merlin rubbed his head where he'd bumped an indoor waterfall and cursed. When _he_ got married he'd do it inside without flowers, standing at the altar with the room filled with bricks and air filters humming reassuringly at all entrances. Damn pollen – Lance wouldn't even spare him five seconds to pop an allergy pill! Wedding Crazy, Merlin thought with narrowed eyes, he hoped he never caught it.

Even better, he'd have Will married him off right then and there on the spot in the safety of his own home so there'd be no wedding panic to deal with. After spending two months trying to set him up with someone, Will had himself ordained over the internet one drunken night in a crazed attempt to married Merlin off to the first gay man he could find. It did not end well.

Merlin blew his nose nosily and felt his tickled nose subdue until he rose to brush himself off, jostling an overhanging pot and sprinkling himself with horrid pollen. This time he sneezed himself out the door when a couple entered the shop.

Gwen was holding out another tissue when he hobbled back in. She gave him a sympathetic smile as she asked, "Do you think an Easter lily garland would be too much?"

Morgana held up the album with a smile, nodding her head in approval.

Merlin scowled, asking with a stuffy, "Ever consider an underwater wedding?"

 

* * *

 

Leon drove like a maniac.

And Arthur had the bruises to prove it.

The car swerved to the left and Arthur braced for impact as both Percival and Lance hurdled toward him. They'd already went to check up on Gwaine, Lance quickly banning all suggestions of ascots as they all slipped on their tuxedos and cummerbunds to test the fit. They were perfect of course; Gwaine had made sure of it. Even Percival's massive arms slipped easily into his silk-lined jacket. They moved out in a rush after that, loading the clothes into the trunk before zipping to the church to meet the Reverend.

Arthur had taken another go at the whole Headset of Doom duty, confirming a few more RSVPs before battling with the caterers once more, trusting Merlin was right about the halibut when the last shipment of chicken – the originally chosen dish – has mysteriously vanished. But that's when all hell broke loose, opening up a can of monster worms, volcanoes, and hurricanes. Arthur was bombarded with question after question, most of which he had no idea how to answer. He suddenly understood when Lance had such difficulty keeping his composure in the weeks previous…

"Would you like your hors d'oeuvres to be passed or put on platters, Monsieur?" _What is the difference?_

"Sit-down dinner, buffet, or food stations, Mr. Dulac?" _… Could you repeat that one more time, please?_

"What on earth are _bombonieres_?" He'd yelled at Lance after they'd given the band the finalize playlist. There was a stuffy sounding man on the line who sounded much too put out by whatever he was doing, telling Arthur there were boxes upon boxes of bombonieres waiting for their pick-up. The brunet sagged back in his seat, muttering some awful amounts of gibberish before the blond lawyer held up a hand, shutting him up. All in all, Arthur was definitely not impressed. Gwen and Lance were just too nice for their own good, much like Merlin, and though Lance had the whole nobility and chivalry down to a tee, apparently weddings sucked it out of him and threw it in the bin.

The thing was, since Lance had been spending so much time at the hospital during the prior months, Gwen and Morgana had been taking the brunt of the planning. But where Morgana would've plowed on ahead – "When I get married, all Leon has to do if just show up and not screw up his only two words"— Gwen actually wanted her husband involved in the planning and execution; fifty-fifty. So unsurprisingly Lance needed the most help playing catch-up and that's why he'd employed the whole team.

They were zooming down to the jewellers to pick up the rings when Arthur growled, "That's it! I quit! Get Gwaine to be your best man because _I am done_!"

He could only be pushed so far, Arthur thought, and this complete and utter lack or order was throwing him off. Even though she drove him up the wall, Arthur had to admit that he would've had better luck trailing Morgana and Gwen instead of dealing with this mayhem and discombobulation with Lance as their more-than-a-little-sleep-deprived leader.

"It can't be that bad. Suck it up princess," Gwaine laughed from where he was riding shotgun.

"Would you like to give it a go?" The blond dangled the mess of wires and blinding neon-coloured notes.

"Don't give up Arthur, please, you're doing great," Lance reassured, but Arthur wasn't having any of it.

"No no no," He pushed the headset away, letting it drop to the center of the car, and crossed his arms. "I'm sure Gwaine will do a great job keeping the rings safe and signing the marriage license with his scribbles. You know his writing's worse than Merlin's?" The last bit was cut off when the car came to an abrupt halt. Around the car, everyone was doing their own little dance of _please let my fingers still be attached to my body_ while throwing glares at the driver. Percival rubbed his forehead from where he'd bumped himself against the back of Gwaine's seat.

Leon beamed and spoke with the excitement of someone who really should've skipped their morning coffee today, "Excalibur Jewellers on your left, gentlemen."

 

* * *

 

_**From Merlin:** _ _I think I'm dying_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Kill me now_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _You too?_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Not much better then?_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _I think we're texting at the same time_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _We're texting at the same time_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _Stop it!_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Okay enough_

_**From Merlin:** _ _It's barely noon…_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Don't remind me_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _Grin and bear it?_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Grin and bear it_

* * *

 

"Okay," Morgana hurried them down the aisles, checking off the items on her list with a flick of her wrist. They'd officially left the floral shop – _thank God!_ — and were now plundering their way through the rest of their duties which were, thanks to Morgana her wedding binder, followed at least some sort of logical pattern. Merlin briefly wondered how the guys were doing and more so if Leon had gotten a speeding ticket yet. "Merlin, how's mission Four-Somethings looking?"

Merlin scrolled down the screen on his phone, scanning over his own virtual list as they turned into another bridal boutique. He and Gwen were hooked by the arms as Merlin was still recovering from his sneezing episode. "Something old?" He said, holding back a sneeze when the overwhelming scent of perfume assaulted him upon their entrance.

"My mother's broach," she replied dutifully.

"Something new?"

"My wedding dress," Gwen smiled and Morgana rifled through her folders to admire the picture.

They took a minute to marvel at the fairy-tale gown, hanging off the shoulder, a heavenly white with intricate silver embroidery over a well-fitted bodice. The bodice was Eve of Milady's signature drop waist and dipped at the back which, if Merlin hadn't been forced to research wedding magazines for the past months, could fool the eye into thinking the dress would dropped away if anything were to catch the cathedral length train. It was a perfect fit from the moment Gwen slipped it on, wrapping around her like a second skin and exposing the smooth, cinnamon-brown skin of her collarbone. The traditional scroll patterns, and tulle and lace brought a whole new meaning to the word royalty and Merlin could picture no one dress as befitting as this.

"Eve of Milady," Morgana sighed dreamily. "A very nice choice."

There was a sudden halt as Merlin very nearly walked into Morgana. Beside him he could hear a soft gasp as Gwen pulled him closer to the glass case filled to the brim with fine jewel necklaces and crystal clear diamond rings. Merlin had to literally drag the two girls away from the tiara collection before they changed their minds again – "Touch that tiara and I'm melting it the first chance I get!" – and ended up spending another two hours playing the debating game.

"Oh Merlin," Morgana's emerald-eyes matched her friend's pout. "Not even a peak?"

"Control yourself, woman." Merlin channeled his inner Arthur and pushed them away. He would be damned if he let anything take away from that dress. He cleared his throat and brought them back into focus, "Something borrowed?"

"Rosa's veil." Rosa, Elyan's wife of five years, loved Gwen like a sister. Merlin had been over to babysit a couple times; Aidan and Mimi always loved gathering around the small keyboard in the living room for a sing-along.

"And something blue?" He looked up and shoved the phone into his pocket. That was what there were looking for now.

"A garter?" Morgana held up the frilly design, a blue satin bow and a chiffon ruffle. She twirled it in the air as if it weren't supposed to be ravished off of the bride's leg and thrown into a group of howling men. Merlin pointedly noted to be somewhere else when said event took place.

Gwen giggled as he turned away. He chose instead to fervently examine a wall of ring pillows when Morgana dived head first into the slips & garters section.

It was bad enough that they'd forced him to the hair salon. The made him sit there on those incredibly uncomfortable plastic chairs –to deter customers until their hair demanded cutting, Merlin thought for sure – while the girls took their damn time going back and forth between two different up-dos. And clothes Merlin could deal with, but hair and makeup? They may as well have locked him in a cage on exploding hairspray cans and left him to die behind enemy lines.

And don't get him started on the mass collection of eye shadows, blushes, concealers, and God knows what else those two were picking up while Merlin busied himself with a bag of chips…

They didn't have a flower girl – "YES!" – nor did they have a ring bearer so Merlin looked over the shelves of toasting glasses. "Who needs customized, beach themed flutes?" he muttered. Seriously, couldn't they just be plain old clear glass champagne glasses? And then there were the poly resign carved handles and bases…Merlin resisted the urge to _accidentally_ tumble into the shelf, no doubt saving many futures brides with his noble act.

When it looked as if the girls were done with the lace and chiffon, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped out on the streets again.

"I feel like we're forgetting something," Gwen chewed her bottom lip and Morgana nodded. She juggled the shopping bags and folders a few minutes, catching a few stray receipts before the wind picked them up, before opening the wedding binder and scanned down the page.

"Honeymoon tickets?" Merlin suggested helpfully

"Got that," Morgana said.

Gwen stopped dead.

"Gwen?" The two turned as the bride slapped a hand over her mouth.

"The honeymoon," she turned to Morgana. "I haven't even begun to pack!"

The man of the group raised a brow. He tugged them along when pedestrians started shooting them looks for stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "They're just clothes, just a throw a bunch in your suitcase and you're good to go."

The two girls on his left stared as if he'd grown a second head.

"You can't be serious Merlin," Morgana chided. "A newly wedded bride must plan her honeymoon arsenal to precision. This isn't just your everyday run-of-the-mill vacation to mom and dad's or a summer holiday, Merlin. Your honeymoon is the official start of your married life and you can either start it off as an unorganized flop-in-the-mud, go-where-the-wind-takes-you mess or you can have it be the proverbial cherry on the top of your post-wedding, low fat, five-tiered cake!"

She trailed on, describing the do's and don't's like describing a fine wine, and Merlin let her. Sometimes there was just no understanding her when Morgana went on a rant. Beside him, Gwen nodded her head, though not quite as strongly as Morgana was ranting, but still, he could tell that this honeymoon business was apparently to be taken quite seriously.

"So what are you going to wear?" He asked when it looked like she was running out of steam.

"Why, I'm so glad you asked my darling," her green eyes twinkled as they came to their next stop and Merlin could feel the demonic aura emanate off of her as his eyes trailed up to the sign and then to the store window when it didn't dawn on him right away. Then and there, he knew exactly why Arthur always called her the devil in disguise because that was exactly what she was.

"No," he whispered, not trusting his voice to grow much louder.

"Oh yes," Morgana grinned, bearing her pearly white fangs. "Now be a good boy and hold these bags for me while us ladies get to work." She dumped the handful of bags, binders, and boxes – shoes, which thankfully weren't the glass slipper design they originally planned on getting – into Merlin's arms before taking the bride by the wrist.

And just when he thought he was out of danger, thinking that maybe they'd be nice enough to let him stand outside where it was safe, he felt a strong tug by the collar of his shirt, dragging him inside.

 

* * *

 

_**From Merlin:** _ _Code Red! Girlie bits!_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _Lance may have reservations about that if he didn't know about your massive crush on Chris Hemsworth_

 _ **From Merlin:**_ _Have you_ seen _Thor?!_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _At least no more sneezing?_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _Worse. My eyes. They burn!_

 _**From Arthur:** _ _What are you on about?_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _Lingerie…garter belts…whips…leather…so much leather…_

Arthur blinked down at his text, wondering why Merlin would bother going through the trouble of sending him a picture –

Shite!

Dear G—

No!

NO!

Arthur threw down his phone and plastered his hands over his eyes, shaking his head roughly. _Damnit Merlin!_ He was going to have to call for a lobotomy before he could ever get the mental image of _Morgana_ and _leather_ out of his brain where it was singed into by now.

The only one of the boys close enough to notice his frantic flails was Lance, who thought Arthur was just having another phone related episode, which he was, just not the kind he thought.

The crew of men had made their final stop at the Round Table. The large function hall stretched far and wide with plentiful space for tables, a large dance floor, and a raised stage for the band. Lance was currently being guided around the hall, finalizing the colour of the bows on the chairs or something – Arthur had stopped paying attention after he saw the snooty, shrill young lady in charge of the hall flounce in looking like a bird who had one too many ruffled feathers.

The rest of the crew, sans Arthur, who had, at the time, been drowning in a sea of phone calls, were currently running around and rearranging the reception room layout by means of a game involving an array of flips, dives, shouts, and God knows what else. Apparently Lance's Uncle Bors had an issue with sitting next to the brand of hardwood used on the dance floor. Lance's cousin Hector wasn't supposed to be seated anywhere near a ventilation system, and Gwen's aunt Gertrude detested the sight of Gwen's uncle Roy.

Long story short; Murphy's Law was the biggest arsehole in the playground; the kind that kicks a guy when he's down, pokes fun at him, and steals the girl (or guy) of said victim's dreams, all the while keeping a shit-eating grin on his face.

So while Gwaine, Percival, and Leon battled it out playing some strange game of Tetris, Jenga, and ninja musical chairs, Arthur and Elyan had the seating blueprint spread out on the table in front of them, ordering and reordering the guests with little flag pins until everyone was satisfied, or at least that's what they hoped.

Elyan had the unfortunate job of numbering the changing up the place cards, and Arthur was increasingly impress by the man's patience every time Percival decided he'd rather sit at table five instead of table nine or Leon changed the table numbers or Gwaine magically made it so he was sitting at a table full of bridesmaids or at the bar. Arthur readily concluded that Elyan was a saint because the only hint of annoyance the man gave off was a furrowed brow and a sharp exhale as he removed his hands from his hips and began reordering the pins once again.

Arthur, however, had no such sainthood in the department of patience. In fact, he'd been running on empty for about three days now. Who knew answering phones could be so aggravating? Arthur found himself gaining new respect for telemarketers and secretaries everywhere.

Okay, well maybe not telemarketers. But definitely secretaries and personal assistants.

He understood now why Merlin never talked to him while he was busy taking phone calls, even though Arthur sometimes had to wait at the assistant's desk for a good twenty minutes, bouncing a collection of papers balls off his dark locks before finally getting a response. There was just so much to do, so much to keep track of when trying to complete one simple task.

Merlin seemed to have no trouble it, now that Arthur thought about it. The assistant's desk was an utter mess, there was no doubting that, but Merlin somehow found balance and security along the hard beech wood. Anything Arthur needed, Merlin knew exactly where to find it. Anything Arthur had lost would magically turn up in one of Merlin's drawers or in the little corner Merlin always reserved as an official _Arthur Corner_ on his radial desk – it's where Arthur always found an extra pack of Tic-Tacs perched happily on the small shelf above the drawers.

He loved that desk, Merlin had confided in him once, how the radial layout wrapped around him in a protective L, forming a Merlin only work area that not even Arthur would dare step into – and only because Merlin would roll into him chair first and claim he didn't see Arthur in the first place when they both knew that was a lie.

No matter how crazed and unorganized and flooded with loose-leaf his desk seemed to get –the complete opposite of Arthur's workspace – Merlin knew with expert precision the location of every file, every folder, every document, every fact and signature that passed his eyes. But Merlin's most remarkable talent was probably single-handedly safeguarding Arthur's door from unwelcomed visitors. The new desk had become a literal shield in time of war (AKA when Arthur's ex-girlfriends returned with vengeance) that both were thankful for.

It was always quite hilarious when Uther came to visit the office, forcing Merlin to clean up for appearance sake. Arthur could never fathom how lost the boy got after cleaning because, as it turned out, when the desk was flawlessly spick-and-span, the process of actually finding something turned into an excruciating game of finding a needle in the haystack. It was due to this illogical fact that Arthur never made Merlin clean his desk, despite how paperclips seemed to sprout like daisies, waterfalling off the desk every Monday morning.

The blond rubbed his eyes, picturing the all too familiar scene with a small smile: Merlin sitting on his lavishly soft leather chair – after complaining none stop about his 'sore bottom,' Arthur finally caved and bought him a suitable chair – rolling smoothly from the computer monitor on one side of the long desk to the other side where the drawers sat. And then it suddenly occurred to him.

Merlin was the answer.

Merlin, who got through more phone calls in ten minutes than Arthur could in one hour. Merlin, who bounced back and forth between office party plans, relaying messages from the paralegal, Elijah, and making appointments with clients. Merlin, who could prepare summonses, subpoenas, and appeals in the blink of an eye while fending off Morgana about the latest office memo Arthur had just sent out.

Merlin, who knew the difference between halibut, salmon, and cod.

Merlin, who had a junkyard collection of accordion folders stashed everywhere around his room relating to the wedding.

 _Damn it,_ why didn't Arthur think of this earlier?

 

* * *

 

_**From Arthur:** _ _Switch?_

 _**From Merlin:** _ _Yes please!_

In the end, Arthur ended up stealing the car, leaving his friends stranded at the reception hall while Lance proceeded to go into a full-blown panic mode – the headset remained untouched and abandoned on one of the tables along with the ringing phone and no one wanted to risk an aneurysm answering it – and Elyan hurled more than a few flag pins at the musical chair players.

But then Merlin appeared, gently tossing the keys over to Leon, sat down, and with impeccably ease lifted the headset around his ears while simultaneously answering a call. What happened next would go down in wedding history and have Lance regarding Merlin with God-like stature for the rest of his life.

The man had a natural fluency and grace dealing with the seemingly demonic contraption. The five men stared in disbelief as Merlin continued on settling disputes, taking, and recording messages all while keeping a genuine smile on his face. And by the sound of things from whoever was on the other line, whether it was a chef or the officiant or someone calling to RSVP, Merlin's natural tranquility and cheerfulness seemed to flow into them too.

There was never a surprise that caught him off guard because believe it or not, Merlin knew everything about the wedding; inside and out. Gwaine took a little break from arranging chairs and led the men in a quick rah-rah cheer for the group's new hero after the lawyer's assistant made the essential changes to the seating arrangement while confirming limo rides for the big day. Everyone had a smile on their face as they drove home, Gwaine and Percival having tackled the keys away from Leon so they'd all get back in one piece.

The elevator ride up to the apartment was a snug fit, but the tension had evaporated from the groom-to-be. Lance had taken on a Zen-like state and Merlin smiled because he knew exactly what the man was thinking of. He shoved a playful shoulder, jostling the brunet into Elyan.

"Mrs. Guinevere Dulac," Gwaine teased from the back. "Has a nice ring to it, yeah?"

Lance bowed his head in a deep blush. "It does indeed."

"Now Lance," Elyan said solemnly. He placed a heavy hand on the man's shoulders and frowned. "As Gwen's big brother, I am obligated to say that if you ever hurt my little sister I will hunt you down and kick your ass."

There was a pause. Everyone stared.

"Or you know…get Percival to do it."

Percival nodded seriously.

Lance gulped.

"But," the brother resumed. "You are the noblest man I have ever met, and so I know that there will never be a need to murder you or hide you in Percival's warehouse for all of eternity."

Percival nodded again, even more serious than before.

Lance let out a shaky breath, but it was Merlin who couldn't hold it in any longer and soon the whole elevator filled with laughter as they reached their level with a light _ding_. They shoved at each other, joking and jibing as Lance tried to take out his key without being slammed into the door when Percy gave him a hearty slap on the back. Eventually he gave up and let Merlin open the door to the apartment.

Morgana was pacing the living room with angry stomps. Gwen and Arthur sat on the sectional couch against the large staircase, and while Gwen was looking particularly fidgety, Arthur looks almost bored.

"You know, there is such a thing as being too efficient!" She lectured. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Don't be difficult, Morgana. For goodness sakes I got you all those discounts didn't I? And we finished everything on the list in a timely manner –"

"Only because you manhandled us back to the florists' to yell at that poor girl for half an hour when you saw the receipt!"

"Who charges hundreds of dollars for colourful weeds anyways? They should be sued!"

"Oh my gosh, no wonder Lance didn't want you on his team anymore, _you are so uptight_."

"At least _I_ didn't shriek at the sight of icing dropped on my shirt."

"It was silk and dry clean only."

"And did you have to strip off your shirt then and there and run across the street to the dry cleaners too?"

The siblings glared at each other and Merlin took the moment to glance at the trio. He was glad to see Arthur looking a little less pale than he was when they'd switched. The blond had loosened his tie and had his legs crossed, one ankle over his other knee, and there was an ease in his shoulders that Merlin registered as Arthur's hard-day-but-accomplished-day pose. Merlin and the others slowly eased into the room as Morgana threw her arms in the air and shrieked.

"I can't believe we're related!"

"Well at least we agree on something then!"

Whatever she was going to say next was briskly cut off when Leon cleared his throat and Morgana whirled around to beam at them. A little hustle and bustle took place as stories were passed back and forth, each party trying to best the other with their own daily horror – apparently Merlin's story of the lingerie store didn't even qualify, which he thought was rightfully horrifying. He did, however, win out on his torture via pollen at the florist's because everyone knew how bad his allergies were.

They ordered take-out that night, and gathered around the flat screen for their tradition movie night, spreading around the living room and breaking out the snacks; Rolos for Arthur, popcorn drowned in butter for Gwaine, Swedish Berries for Lance, and Merlin's Krackel mini chocolate bars – thanks to Arthur training Cabal the trick of seek-and-destroy-kettle-corn-bags, Merlin had to switch over to something else. So he settled down into his spot in front of the coffee table, Arthur to his left and Gwaine's legs, propped up on the table, to his right. The blue-eyed chocolate lover immediately dug into his Bulk Barn bag of goodies.

Pillows and Blankets were tossed around as people began debating over what movie to watch, bickering like the brothers and sisters they'd grown to become over their time together, eventually settling on an action-adventure with a little comedy thrown in on the side. There was lull in the room as the opening credits bounced into view, and for the briefest moment in time the approaching day was forgotten. Instead, shoulders settled down against a loved one, toes touched and knocked and teased, treats were stolen and popcorn was thrown, and friends laughed till tears bubbled up and filled the entire room.

As far as anyone was concerned, operation Wedding Day was a go. And no one doubted how beautiful it would be.

_**~*~ Reception ~*~** _

__

__

__

Arthur took another sip of his champagne and watched with a glowing smile as the band, after a short intermission, started up with a bang. As expected, the wedding went beautifully, and now they were all spending the rest of the day at the Round Table for the reception. He watched as Gwaine bursted into the Macarena on the dance floor and Percy tried to best him by attempting the Funky Chicken, only to fail terribly when he ended up elbowing an elderly couple off the hardwood.

Leon and Morgana were taking their turns dancing with the bride and groom before finding their way back to one another, and Arthur had to smirk when he and Morgana caught each other's eye. He wondered briefly if she'd actually be patient enough to wait for Leon or if she'd end up catching the bouquet and dragging the man off the Vegas without so much as a "Will you marry me?"

Arthur hid his laugh behind another sip of champagne. He himself had just finished his dance with Gwen, beaming at her like any proud friend would.

Gwen had laughed at him, "Really Arthur, you look like my dad before he stuck my drawings up on the fridge."

"Why wouldn't I be? I couldn't imagine any two people more suited for one another than you and Lance." He lowered his voice with the music, "Your father would've been so happy to see you here today."

She had smiled at him then, a sad smile, but a grateful one. With their father long past, Elyan had been the one to walk Gwen down the aisle and give her away. But today was no day for tears of lost– they'd moved on since that day – and instead, the siblings leaned on each other, knowing how proud their father would be to see his little girl finally getting married to the man of her dreams.

The music changed soon after, and Gwaine had cut in with a shove, forcing Arthur into a table of toddlers. A little girl in a long pink princess gown asked him to dance and who was Arthur to say no to a princess? He'd said as much, and soon he was dancing song after song with princess after princess – Arthur had raised his head at one point, seeing Merlin and Lance smiling at him from the bar, and Morgana by her table take a multitude of pictures no doubt saving them for blackmail – until the last young girl hopped off Arthur's toes where he'd let her stand and ran happily to her mother with a giggling grin. He decided to take his escape then to regain the feelings in his toes

"Arthur, quick, come dance with me!" He barely had the chance to sit down and rest before he was dragged out onto the dance floor again.

" _Mer_ lin," He growled, loosening the man's vice grip on his shoulders as Merlin steered them further into the crowd of swaying bodies. There were no missing the winking glances and not-so-subtle smirks passed their way when Arthur raised his head to glance around, grumbling. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Shh," Merlin hissed back, ducking into the blond's shoulder. He pushed and pulled Arthur around like a makeshift warrior using an oversized shield for protection against some onslaught, but with his small size and bent over posture, Merlin only managed to look cowering. "I'm hiding from the guy at the bar."

Arthur looked over his shoulder to wear the idiot was nervously throwing back his eyes and spotted a man with a hooked nose and beady looking eyes. The slightly balding man looked especially put out by the fact that he and Merlin weren't the ones dancing. Arthur let out an airy laugh.

"You really know how to pick 'em don't you Merlin?"

"Shut up, prat."

Arthur waited till the music sank in, easing Merlin to the beat of the string quartet and listening to the velvet sounds twirl high into the ceiling as the couples dances around them. And then waited some more as the panicking idiot finally let out the breath he'd been hold ever since they started their awkward side-to-side waddling. Thankfully someone had taken the hint, and when both men turned to look back at the bar, the beady-eyed man was gone.

They shared a look and laughed.

"Big day." Merlin beamed. "Can you believe it?"

Arthur just shook his head. It'd had been a long journey to get to where they were today. A journey filled to the brim with disappointment, heartbreak, and long nights, but it was all worth it in the end. And it was a journey they'd all taken together.

He wasn't sure how long he and Merlin danced for, going back and forth between "Hey, remember the time we…" or "Can you believe we actually did that?" and then angry shouts of "Where was I when that happened?" and then some. But just when the memories began blending together into one large ball of tear-inducing emotion, the music shut off.

From across the hall, Gwaine bellowed out something along the lines of, "Garter toss!" And the crowd went wild as Merlin went wide-eyed and Arthur rose a brow. The sea of people began to shift. The dance floor cleared except for Gwen sitting on a single chair. And Barry White was blasted off the speakers —

  
_Darling, I can't get enough of your love babe_   
_Girl, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know why_   
_I can't get enough of your love babe_   
_Oh no, babe_   


— as Lance twirled onto the hardwood like a professional dancer. Somehow he'd gotten his hands on a top hat and was currently trotting along the border, sidestepping and spinning here and there to the music. Everyone was clapping and whistling, and even Gwen, who'd definitely not expected this little show, was tearing up with laughter. The men gathered around, rooting on their friend, while the girls cheerfully clapped along.

The groom did a final twirl and ran into a power slide, shooting across the floor to his blushing bride. Gwen was still catching her breath from all the laughing, but everyone could see the loving looks mirrored in their faces.

And then he reached under her dress.

"Um…should we?" Arthur resisted the push of the crowd as the men anticipated the garter throw, as did Merlin.

"Run away?" Merlin finished with growing panic. He shivered at the memory of a certain lingerie shop.

"Run away."


End file.
